𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤

Paws and Claws*

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → smut, humor, pet interruption, mid-sex comedy, cat interference, frustration, fluff.

Summary → Peter and Reader's steamy session is interrupted by her judgmental cat, leading to chaos and desperation.

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Peter's lips were all over you the moment your bedroom door clicked shut behind him. Hands fumbling with each other's clothes, your shared laughter turning breathless as your backs hit the mattress. You hadn't seen him in nearly a week, and finals stress had both of you pent up-emotionally and very physically.

"God, I missed you," he groaned into your neck, hips already grinding against yours through your underwear.

"I can tell," you teased, feeling his very clear, very eager response pressing against your core.

Clothes came off fast and messy, his hoodie ending up on your floor, your bra slung over your lamp. You barely had time to process the heat building inside you before Peter slid into you, one hand gripping your hip tightly as he buried himself to the hilt with a low moan.

"Fuck-you feel like heaven," he hissed, forehead pressed against yours.

Your nails dug into his shoulders. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

And he didn't. For a while, everything was perfect-his thrusts deep and slow, building that delicious pressure in your core. Your breathing grew ragged, legs wrapped tight around his waist, every roll of his hips driving you closer to the edge.

The bed creaked under Peter's weight, and he let out a low chuckle. "You're really something else, you know that?" He whispered, his lips brushed against the corner of your mouth.

"Fuck... Peter, just-just a little faster," you gasped, fingers clawing at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

Peter panted, his lips brushing against your neck, teeth grazing lightly over the soft skin there. "God, you feel so fucking tight... I-shit-" His thrusts were hard, deep, hitting that spot inside you perfectly.

You were trembling, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying out, your chest heaving. Every nerve was on fire. Your toes curled, nails scraping against his lower back as your orgasm crept closer, just a few more perfect strokes away.

"I'm gonna-" you whimpered, clutching him closer, "Peter-just a little more-"

But then suddenly he stopped.

Froze completely, buried inside you, blinking over your shoulder.

"Why are you stopping?" You whined, eyes wide and desperate.

Peter just stared, horrified. "Uh..."

"What? What is it?"

"...Your cat is watching us."

You blinked. "What?"

Peter pointed stiffly toward your dresser. "Whiskers is right there. Just staring at me."

You turned your head, and sure enough-your fluffy, white menace of a cat was perched on your dresser, eyes glowing like a tiny feline demon, tail twitching with judgment.

"Seriously?" You groaned.

"He's judging me," Peter muttered, still not moving. "I can't do this with him watching me."

"Peter," you growled, "you are literally inside me right now. Please move."

"He's literally staring, babe! Look at him! He's like... silently telling me I'm a sinner."

You smacked his shoulder. "He's a cat. He saw me naked, like, thousands of times. He sits in the bathroom while I pee. He doesn't care!"

Peter still wasn't moving. "I swear he's doing it on purpose. This is revenge for not letting him on the couch that one time."

"Peter. If you don't move right now, I will divorce you before we can even get married!"

Whiskers blinked slowly.

Peter glanced between you and the cat. "Buddy," he whispered at Whiskers, "this is really personal, okay? This is private. Intimate. Your mom's gonna murder me if I don't move, so stop looking at me like that!"

Whiskers did not blink again.

"Peter!" You whined. "I am so close! Please just move-pretend he's not there!"

He looked at you, torn between laughter and despair. "This is the worst threesome ever."

"Peter!"

Finally, he sighed, forehead dropping to your shoulder. "Okay. Okay. But if he jumps on the bed, I swear to God-"

He started moving again-slow at first, like he was waiting for Whiskers to pounce. But your soft moan pulled him back in, and soon he was thrusting again, all hesitation fading under the sound of your gasps and pleas.

"You're so-God, yes, right there-don't stop again-"

"Not even a cat can stop me now," he growled against your skin.

From his perch, Whiskers yawned.

You arched your back, nails digging into Peter's shoulders as he fucked you faster, harder now, eyes shut tight, gritting his teeth, desperate to focus. Whiskers blinked lazily at the scene, completely unimpressed.

"You're so close, baby," Peter groaned into your ear, voice low and rough, words vibrating through your skin. "I've got you... just a little more..."

"I can't-fuck, I can't hold it!" You moaned, legs trembling around his hips as he pounded into you, the room filled with your gasps and Peter's grunts.

And then, finally, finally... Peter pushed one last time, hips snapping, and your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave. You cried out, trembling, your nails scratching down his back as every nerve in your body lit up. Peter followed immediately, groaning and shuddering inside you, the sound vibrating deep in your chest.

When you finally collapsed against each other, both panting, sweaty, and sticky, Peter peeked at Whiskers, who was now cleaning his paw, completely ignoring the carnage he had just witnessed.

"I hate that cat," Peter muttered, "I fucking hate him..."

You laughed breathlessly, smushing your face into his chest. "He doesn't care, Peter. He never cares."

Peter groaned, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. "Yeah...but I swear, he's doing it on purpose."

Whiskers let out another meow, as if confirming Peter's suspicion, before hopping off the dresser and strutting away like the tiny tyrant he was.

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